Chapter 233: Fall of the Desolate Dragon
On the twelfth day after the God of Terror had been vanquished, the capital seemed markedly different than usual. In truth, the change had begun the night prior as waves of people, scattered across the lands of Aleisterre, made their way back to the capital and returned home.
And though their numbers weren't large relative to the city's total population, they shared a common trait: they were all professional combatants.
This period after the end of the Selwyn campaign had served as much-needed respite for those who had joined the war—soldiers taking leave to visit home, or simply to enjoy a rare taste of life without the iron hand of military law.
The Nightblades were no exception. Many of them had chosen this day to return. The reason was simple: today was the day they would mourn their fallen comrades, those who had given their lives in the war against Selwyn.
There was no official decree nor mandatory attendance. In truth, this day hadn't even been declared as one of mourning. It was an agreement made in silence, a collective will that sparked this remembrance.
The dead slumbered. No ceremony, however grand, could ever call them back. This memorial was meant only to imprint their memory upon the living, to let them continue on in another form—in the hearts of those who remain.
Though their bodies be dust, let their flames be passed on.
The sky was clear, with nary a cloud in sight. Sunlight streamed down unimpeded, illuminating a wide field of grass just outside the city that had been deliberately cleared and consecrated by the capital's magicians. Some came on horseback, others on foot. The Nightblades emerged from the city one by one, gathering in silence around the field.
They were dressed simply. Few wore formal attire. Most had come in standard patrol armor, or casual linen tunics better suited for the home than the battlefield. The mood was not funereal, and it did not reek of sorrow.
They dismounted. They stood.
They stopped. They stared.
Before them, planted row upon row in the grass, were longswords bearing the names of the dead. Each blade represented a Nightblade who had fallen in the war.
The swords weren't heirlooms, or even the weapons once wielded by the fallen. The Nightblades were pragmatic people—anything of value left behind had either been returned to the families, or converted into coin and delivered along with official compensation.
These blades were hastily forged by the city's blacksmiths. None were identical or designed to reflect the character of the deceased. They were simple steel—nothing more than vessels for remembrance.
They wouldn't remain stuck in the ground for long. In a week's time, the Nightblades' own magicians would return to bury the blades beneath the earth, completing the ritual.
No one here had come for a spectacle. No one sought grandeur or solemnity by design. Those who bore gratitude and respect for the dead would arrive regardless. As for those who felt nothing—their presence, even if feigned, would mean little.
And many did show up to this funeral of swords. Nearly the entire order of the Nightblades had gathered, including Edward. The names of Wang Yu and Hugin were plainly etched upon two of the blades.
The citizens of the capital came in even greater numbers. Many of them had once been saved by Edward within the God of Terror's sea of silence. They held a deep and abiding respect for the Nightblades and their sacrifices.
The Church of Light had also arrived in good faith. The Nightblades and the church had long shared strong ties, and many within the order were themselves devout. Archbishop Fang stood beside Edward, his hand resting lightly on the young man's shoulder.
Even some of the city guard had come. These men and women had fought alongside the Nightblades, and could count themselves as comrades-in-arms. Today, they had come to this field to bid their final farewells to the dead.
A few representatives from the royal family appeared as well—doubtlessly just for appearances' sake. Some nobles stood among them, wearing the requisite masks of grief, performing their part in this political theater of mourning. No one paid them much attention.
The field was quiet. All stood still, eyes resting on the rows of swords swaying faintly in the breeze. Though some eyes were red, and the occasional sob could be heard, people weren't expected to weep or wail. The mood was solemn, but not sorrowful.
The Nightblades stepped forward in near-perfect unison, as though moved by an invisible signal. As one, they bowed before the makeshift graves of steel. A gesture of respect, and a final goodbye.
Among the royal envoys, one man watched on expressionlessly. His eyes scanned the names carved into the sword blades. When he saw Wang Yu and Hugin's names, a subtle, almost imperceptible smile flickered at the corners of his mouth. So, Edward had given up the search after all. That would save the crown a great deal of trouble.
A sudden thunderclap shattered the silence. The blast erupted behind them with such force that the entire capital trembled. The sound rolled through the city, shaking stone and soul alike. Even those standing beyond the walls could hear it.
Heads turned. Shock painted every face. A column of smoke pierced the sky. The very clouds above darkened with soot.
On the mountain peak known as the "Throne," a corner of the royal palace had collapsed entirely, its once-grand architecture now marred by a gaping, jagged wound.
No one had seen it coming. No one knew what had caused it. On this quiet day, in the aftermath of war, something—or someone—had struck the heart of Aleisterre.
Stone and mortar continued to crumble. Fissures raced like lightning across the palace walls. The force had been potent enough to leave its mark deep in the very foundations of the royals' bastion.
The massive magical formation that protected the palace began to activate, its symbols glowing as it spun. Arcane arcs of light flared across the sky. With Themis' Shroud still disabled, the kingdom's second-most powerful defense was coming to life.
Constructed by the greatest mages, the linked array covered the entire palace and would annihilate any who dared to trespass.
"Move out! We're under attack!"
"There's no time for mourning! Enemy forces inbound!"
"Captain! Awaiting orders!"
But the Nightblades were no ordinary soldiers. They were the cream of the crop, elite even among elite. The sudden blast had stunned them—but not for long.
In seconds, they were in motion, gearing up to re-enter the city and confront the threat. From the scale of the damage, this was no casual skirmish.
"Everyone—listen up! I speak to you as a fellow member of the Nightblades!"
It was then that Edward's voice echoed directly into the minds of every Nightblade present. Beside him, Archbishop Fang rested his hand once more on Edward's shoulder, using divine power to amplify his words.
"Our commander Hugin—and special ops member Wang Yu—"
A few minutes earlier, Avia, Sieg, and Charles had been standing in an abandoned plaza several kilometers from the palace. The Lady of the Night's power had cloaked their presence as they arrived at the site.
"Here. Once you find Wang Yu, use this to extract him. I'm counting on the Lady to handle the contact."
Charles handed each of them a tarot card: The Star, reversed.
To storm the royal palace—to assault the stronghold of the most powerful force in the kingdom—was madness.
"Mm."
Avia nodded. She took the card, sliced at the air with her fingers, opened a crack in space, and slipped the tarot card inside.
"Got it. We're counting on you."
Sieg smiled as he tucked it into a special stone box at his waist—one of the enchanted curios provided by the Church of Nightfall, and the only storage device sturdy enough to withstand the coming blast.
"Good luck. Don't die. Get that bastard Wang Yu out."
Charles had dropped his usual levity. His voice was stoic and solemn.
Avia and Sieg gave him a thumbs-up as wind gathered beneath their feet, lifting them skyward at increasing speed.
Wind howled. Avia maintained their flight with elemental magic, while Sieg checked his condition.
Over the past twelve days, the arcane circuits carved into his draconic form had been refined and expanded—specialized spells had been etched in preparation for this very moment.
They rose above the clouds. The palace now lay directly ahead. Their destination was the underground dungeon beneath the side wing of the palace, where Wang Yu was surely imprisoned.
"Is the Jade Golem ready?" Avia asked, glancing toward Sieg. "Even a dragon's body isn't enough to take that kind of impact. We'll need the Archdruid's relic."
Sieg nodded. Bright, intricate runes lit up across his skin as magical circuits came alive, channeling energy to key nodes and assembling defensive matrices on the surface of his body.
"Yes, I'm ready," Sieg replied with a faint smile. "I'm fine-tuning my draconic transformation to manifest as quickly as possible. I've rehearsed it many times already, but this time, there's no room for error."
As he spoke, Sieg felt the presence of that colossal dragon form suspended in a space only he could sense. Upon its body, lines of arcane inscriptions pulsed in harmony with the magical flow on his humanoid form, strengthening the bond between the two bodies with each cycle.
"Understood. Then I'll begin preparing the acceleration spell."
Avia began gathering her own magic for the upcoming dive.
Wind howled at them from all directions as it compressed into fierce currents. The growing speed of the airflow was sharp enough to flay skin from flesh.
The winds circled the duo, ready to be unleashed—and when they did so, the currents would hurl them forward at dizzying speed.
A layer of magical shielding enveloped each of their bodies, not only to protect Avia's comparatively fragile frame but also to better harness the violent momentum of the surrounding air, converting its kinetic power into raw speed.
Avia instantaneously redirected the swirling tempest. The compressed wind, already growing hot from friction, surged without restraint against the spherical magical shields enclosing their forms.
Their speed spiked. In an instant, both were hurled forward, the gale force accelerating them with such force that even the air before them yielded as it was sliced apart by invisible blades. Any drag quickly vanished.
Just moments ago, they had been motionless. Now, they were blurred shadows, barely visible to the naked eye—and still accelerating.
Arcane circuits flared across Sieg's body. Twin trails of fire erupted behind them, creating explosive thrust. Combined with the gale, their speed rocketed to new heights.
A streak of flame and light tore through the air. Their destination, the royal palace, loomed ahead. Its outer walls were now visible in the distance.
But as they approached the two-kilometer mark, space flickered. The Gate of Phases spell activated. Sieg and Avia vanished, having snapped back to their starting point.
This was the second phase of the dive. Thanks to spatial manipulation, Avia and Sieg could repeat this process. Avia could set up six consecutive gates before she reached her limit. With each jump covering seven times the distance, they would traverse 35 kilometers in total—enough to push their speed into the supersonic realm.
By the final gate, they had reached their goal. Without the aid of powerful enhancement spells and a suite of defensive magic prepared over the last twelve days, Avia's body would have disintegrated under their sheer momentum.
Sieg was utterly focused now. They had entered the realm of silent supersonic flight—they were too fast for even sound to catch up to them. The royal palace would have no time to react.
A glass hourglass appeared in Avia's hand. Sand began to fall. The time stored within was now being released. To her eyes, the world slowed. It had been a princely gift from Charles: the strategic-class curio, the Chronostasis Hourglass.
Time slowed to a quarter of its usual speed. At their current rate, they would traverse the final 1.2 kilometers in an instant—but the time-slow effect gave her a critical window in which to act.
She adjusted her posture. Void energy swirled around her. Her body blurred as it virtualized. This was the fourth-tier void spell Wraithform. In this state, she was immune to physical damage, vulnerable only to that which the caster designated, and only partially affected by the laws of the physical world.
She had prepared it for what came next. At their current state, crashing into the royal palace wasn't enough. Their speed might suffice—but not their mass.
That was Sieg's task. In that hidden space only he could sense, the dragon's body aligned with his own. Their forms began to merge.
On Earth, kinetic energy couldn't simply be summoned from nowhere. Mass couldn't change on command. But this world obeyed no such limitations. They would accelerate his lighter human body to sufficient speed. Then, he would transform into dragon form with massively enhanced momentum.
In this world, such an astounding feat was possible. Sieg's true form emerged. A titanic red dragon—a beast of sinew and fury—burst into being mid-flight.
His sheer kinetic energy now defied reason. And in that instant, the Lady of the Night's concealment over him failed.
To any eyewitnesses, it would seem as if a real dragon had suddenly appeared out of nowhere, just 1.2 kilometers from the palace. It streaked through the air like a crimson comet, aiming not at the palace proper, but one of its side halls. The absurdity of it all might almost have seemed comical, but not to the royal family. They certainly weren't laughing.
Sieg crushed a jade talisman in his claw—an Archduid's relic: the Jade Golem. An emerald light washed over him. His scales turned deep green, like living jade.
Even a dragon would be crushed upon impact by such jaw-dropping momentum. This potent relic had been prepared as a counter.
The jade sheath acted like armor. It was immensely heavy and boasted commensurate defense. Though it would shatter upon impact, a one-time shield was more than enough.
And given the fact that that armor weighed almost half as much as Sieg did, his momentum was now boosted to truly ridiculous heights.
The emerald-armored dragon slammed sideways into the palace wall. The outer wards, fragile as paper, shattered instantly into useless motes of magic. Then the walls—engraved with complex enchantments, thick as bunkers—crumbled into dust.
Unstoppable and irresistible, Sieg caused a sky-shattering impact to erupt right above the capital.
Avia, still subject to Wraithform, clung to Sieg's back as if riding a creature of cataclysm. They tore into the palace, obliterating all in their path.
The jade plating exploded in a wave of shards, its purpose fulfilled. And the dragon, Sieg, burrowed deep into the palace, his mountainous weight shaking the entire peak upon which the fortress stood. Tremors echoed in all directions.
Visible shockwaves blasted out from the impact, rolling across the sky above the capital with a deafening roar.
A section of the palace was simply gone, swallowed by dust and ruin. A crater remained—and hundreds of hairline fractures spiderwebbed outward through the stone.
"Enemy attack! We're under attack!"
"Activate the array! Eliminate the intruders!"
"Summon the royal guards!"
"What was that?! A giant dragon?!"
"Check the foundations—the impact might have destabilized everything!"
Panic erupted. The attack had come without warning, overwhelming every defense and contingency. Now, the defenders could only scramble to deploy everything they had.
A massive magical array flared to life. Power gathered at the apex of the palace. Spells of terrifying potency began charging—ready to fire through countless arcane nodes across the palatial complex.
This was the royal family's greatest defense, honed over decades. The array here was even more destructive than the one guarding Stevenson Academy of Magic. With this array, they could eliminate even Sieg's draconic form before he reached the prisoner.
"What's that?!"
"It appeared before, during the Hellgate invasion!"
Just then, something else descended. A ripple passed through the sky. Dark clouds spiraled above. From within the vortex, an unfathomable power stirred—and a golden draconic eye tore through the fabric of reality, gazing down.
The moment Sieg revealed his true form and the Lady of the Night's cloaking failed, he had been discovered—by that being.
It had no emotion, no hesitation, no deliberation—only a singular purpose: to annihilate.
Thunder cracked. Lightning split the heavens. The presence loomed just above the palace. Every soul below was paralyzed with dread. The raw pressure triggered a primal, instinctual terror, utter and unrelenting.
Once again, the colossal draconic claw descended, its force impossible to fathom. It struck first—not directly at Sieg, but at the magic array atop the palace.
A fraction of its power spilled outward—but that alone was enough. The entire array overloaded and shattered in a cascade of alarm and rupturing energy, reduced to drifting shards of pure magic.
Simultaneously, all the palace's arcane conduits detonated, flooded with power beyond comprehension—burning and exploding in a chain reaction throughout the stronghold.
The claw continued downward. But just before it struck the pit where Sieg had landed—just before it obliterated all trace of him—a dome of impenetrable darkness descended, black as the void and vast as the sky. The Lady of the Night had acted again. With her power once more veiling Sieg and obscuring his presence, that unimaginable existence would withdraw.
This time, however, It didn't retreat immediately. The colossal claw pressed downward for a while longer before finally halting, as though compelled by the lingering trace of Sieg's presence. Having sensed him more than once, "It" believed the man was still here.
It was a perilous moment. The claw came within a breath of piercing the Lady of the Night's shroud. But in the end, having failed to detect Sieg, It relented and withdrew its strength.
The apocalyptic vision slowly faded from the heavens, leaving the palace's entire magical defense system lay in ruins. A singular, fleeting chance like this would not come again.
"It seems that next time, It won't be fooled so easily," Avia murmured under her breath. "Mr. Sieg, you've done everything you can. Now, it's my turn. Wang Yu, I'm coming for you."
With a final glance at the vanishing spectacle above, she turned without hesitation and dove into the fissure leading into the underground dungeon that had split open during the assault. She would bring Wang Yu back, no matter what.